To Exist
by Savari
Summary: At the end of The Greater Good 1x21 Xena does not miraculously survive and live to save the day. Gabrielle is forced to move on without her and strikes up a strange friendship, of sorts, with the handsome God of War, Ares.
1. The Greater Good

**AN:** This story was inspired one day while I was watching episode 1x21 The Greater Good. I wondered what would happen to Gabrielle if Xena didn't miraculously survive to save the day. This story starts out dark and angsty, but gradually lightens with some humour. The first half of this chapter follows the end of the episode and diverges about halfway through.

* * *

**The Greater Good**

"Who killed Xena?" Talmadeus chuckled, leering unpleasantly at the dead warrioress' body.

"I, uh…. I don't know," Salmoneus murmured sadly.

"You… don't know?" Talmadeus turned to the portly lord beside him with a disgusted look. "It's obvious and soon the entire world will know. I killed her!" The warlord turned to his army, fists raised in victory. His men roared and cheered for their leader. "The great Talmadeus has taken down the warrior princess!"

Talmadeus smirked and basked in the praise of his men for a moment.

"Bring out the horses," The warlord commanded, "Let's tear this carcass limb from limb," he grinned, turning to resume his seat.

He had not even reached his makeshift throne when the sounds of fighting broke out behind him. Talmadeus turned to watch curiously as a small blonde woman beat his men to the ground. "I like her spirit," he murmured to himself.

Before Talmadeus knew it, the blonde had fought her way over to him and had one of his men's swords held to his throat.

"I'm taking my friend and we're leaving, got it?!!" She snarled ferociously, green eyes narrowed.

"You fight well, I might ask you to join," Talamdeus grinned, ignoring the sword she held.

"I'm taking her home to her mother," The girl snapped, pressing the sword harder.

"I can see you're determined," The warlord smirked.

"Put her on the horse, NOW!!" She yelled.

"How long do you think you can keep this up? The moment your head turns, the moment your eyes flicker… You don't even know how to hold a sword," Talmadeus finished his little speech with a condescending smile.

_Story diverges here

* * *

_

"I've just lost my best friend, and you think I care how I'm holding this sword?" I growled, my voice cracking with emotion. He didn't answer.

"Put Xena on the horse, NOW!!" I roared, not taking my eyes off Talmadeus.

The warlord clenched his teeth in frustration and gave a stiff nod to his men. They dragged Xena's body to Argo and threw her roughly over the saddle.

"Good," I pressed the tip of the sword harder against Talmadeus' throat, mesmerised by the trickle of blood that ran from beneath it, "Now I'm leaving. Don't follow me." I backed away a step, and quickly gauged how many strides it would take to reach Argo. Five. Okay, focus. (Xena said to focusohgodsohgodsgodshelp) One step, two, three. Swords came out of nowhere, slashing down in front of me.

"You're not leaving yet little girl," Talmadeus' chuckled as his men barred my way.

I snarled and it was not a pretty sound. The sword in my hand felt heavy and awkward. I remembered that I wasn't a warrior, I didn't know how to wield a sword. _Doesn't matter. I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me from fulfilling Xena's last request._

And suddenly the sword felt light, felt like it belonged in my hand. There was a ringing sound in my ears, so loud I almost didn't hear the heavy, wet sound the metal made as it slid through flesh. It took no strength at all to pull the sword free again and plunge it into the second man, straight through his throat in one clumsy thrust. Some part of me rejoiced at the gurgling sound the man made as he slid to the ground. Another part of me wanted to be sick, wanted to throw down the sword I was never meant to wield and collapse in a heap of screaming, hysterical misery. But I couldn't, there was something I had to do first. Once Xena was home again then could I give in, curl into a ball on the ground and cry myself to death.

No more men stood in my way and I took the last two strides to Argo. Somehow I heaved myself onto the mare's back, awkwardly shifting Xena's body so that she lay across the saddle in front of me. My heels dug into Argo's sides and the mare lurched forward into a swift canter. We were going home.


	2. And It Rained

**And It Rained**

I think it was three days before we reached Amphipolis. I'm not sure. I don't remember stopping to eat, or sleep, though I think I must have dozed on and off in the saddle. By the time we got there I had run out of water and my throat burned with thirst. The sun glared, and everything was horribly bright. I dismounted just outside the village, my knees buckling as I landed.

I turned to Argo, fumbling with the reins as I gathered them in my numb fingers. The rough leather in my palm was an anchor, keeping me focused when all I wanted was to stop, to sit down and let exhaustion and grief sweep me away into blissful sleep. I would say that I led Argo through the streets of Amphipolis, but that would be untrue; she led me, guiding me unerringly towards Cyrene's tavern, as though she knew I was in no condition to lead the way. I didn't think about how I would break the news to Xena's mother; the clawing, burning thirst that scraped my throat drove all other thought from my pounding head.

If I had had any coherence to spare I would have seen the many eyes that followed us through the streets. People stopped and watched as we passed, hands going to mouths as gasps were drawn from them. To the people of this village, Xena was a hero and a villain, but never had they thought about her mortality. Her vibrant aliveness had led them all to believe she was invincible.

They watched as Argo came to a halt outside Cyrene's tavern, watched as I swayed away from the mare, my feet dragging as I stumbled to the door.

The wood was hard and rough against my palms as I pushed it open and the sensation somehow cleared the fog from my head a little.

Inside, the tavern was dark and cool, only a few people sitting around the creaky wooden tables at this time of day. Those few that were there, however, turned to watch my graceless journey to the bar, more than one rolling their eyes and muttering about drunkards finding shelter in their village.

Cyrene turned away from the tankard she had been polishing, a welcoming smile fixed to her face as she prepared to serve me as another customer. It took a moment for her eyes to take in what she was seeing, but when they did she frowned in confusion.

"Gabrielle? What are you doing here- where's Xena?" She tactfully avoided mentioning the fact that I was wearing armour just like Xena's. She didn't know that this _was_ Xena's armour. Armour she would never wear again.

I squeezed my eyes shut as tears threatened to spill over. I don't know where my body was finding the moisture to produce them, but it managed somehow.

"Gabrielle?" She asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, my jaw clenched with the effort of keeping my grief at bay.

Cyrene paused, a frown deepening the faint lines of her face.

"Is Xena with you?" She paused when I didn't answer, worry dawning on her face.

"Is Xena okay?"

I shook my head, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "She's outside," I managed in a choked whisper.

I didn't watch as Cyrene dashed around the end of the bar and hurried out the door. Tried not to listen as her keening cries filled the midday air with grief.

Finally, after days of exhaustion, I slid to the floor and allowed the darkness to pull me under; I crumpled, unconscious.

* * *

It rained the day of her funeral. How cruel could the gods be? Not even a bright, sunny day to herald the passing of a great hero.

I think I saw Ares there. He stood apart from everyone else, head bowed beneath the hood of his dark cloak as dirt was thrown over her shrouded body. I wondered what Xena would have thought of that, to have Ares attend her funeral.

Eventually it was over and everyone slowly trickled away in twos and threes until I was the only one left. Friends had dragged Cyrene away when it became obvious she planned to stay by her dead daughter's graveside in the rain and mud. No one pulled me away. They didn't know me and I couldn't leave. If I left, then I would have to go on with my life and I wasn't sure I knew how to, without Xena.

It seemed like hours that I stood there, silent and numb, not moving or even crying. Eventually I heard footsteps approaching and someone came to stand by my side. I didn't look to see who, I couldn't muster enough emotion to care who had come to intrude on my grief.

"Don't you want to know who killed her?" He said. I'd only heard his voice once before, but he sounded different now. He had been so confident, so sure of himself then. Now he sounded a little broken. The God of War sounded defeated.

I didn't reply, couldn't think past the great, overwhelming gonegonegonexenasgoneohgodsgonegonexenasgone that crawled monotonously through my head. It didn't rush, it crawled, every word drawn out, the syllables stretched to their limit so as to ensure maximum impact.

Eventually he spoke again.

"When you're ready for revenge, call me. I want to be a part of the destruction of her murderer," And he was gone.


	3. To Move On

**To Move On**

For the next couple of weeks I stayed with Cyrene, helping her manage the Tavern and her grief. It was awkward and strange, being here without Xena, but I couldn't bear to leave, unable to even think about moving on.

Eventually it was Cyrene herself who drove me to leave. She didn't say anything and I knew she was grateful for the help, but every time she looked at me her eyes grew dark and haunted. Seeing me every day was not helping her recovery, my presence only reminding her of Xena's last visit here, when she finally redeemed herself in the eyes of her mother and her village by saving them from the warlord Draco.

With a hug and a few bitter tears I left, having finally decided that my best course of action would be to head home, to Potadeia.

As I led Argo out of the village I stopped by Xena's grave to shed a few more tears before I said my final goodbyes. I doubted that I would ever make the trip back to this village, so with the comforting weight of Argo's muzzle resting on my shoulder, I sat by my lost friend's graveside and grieved.

Minutes passed into hours and Argo moved away to graze on the short, dry winter grasses. I eventually ran out of tears to shed and so, with a heavy heart, I struggled to my feet, legs tingling from being still so long. Argo lifted her pretty head from the grass and wandered over to me, obviously sensing that it was time to go. I patted her soft nose and swung myself awkwardly up into the saddle.

I had spoken to some of the village men before I set out and they had drawn me a rough map on one of my scrolls, giving me plenty of helpful advice at the same time. It was from this scroll that I now ascertained my path and I carefully took note of where I was heading before rolling it back up and placing it gently into one of the saddle-bags. It was my only way home and I wasn't about to lose it.

With a gentle squeeze of my legs Argo took the first few steps on the road to Potadeia, the road that led to the rest of my life. I tried not to dwell on how cold and lonely the world seemed now, without Xena in it.


	4. A Home

**AN: **I don't know how long it would take someone to travel from Amphipolis to Potadeia on horseback, so I'm just taking a stab in the dark and saying three days at a walk.

* * *

  
**A Home**

It was just as night was falling, three days after we had left Amphipolis that Argo and I arrived at Potadeia.

Nervousness bubbled in my stomach as I wondered what sort of reception I would get from my family. I had left them rather abruptly last time, after all.

The streets were quiet and fairly empty that afternoon, most people having returned to their homes for the night. Before long, and well before I was ready, I had pulled Argo to a halt outside what had once been my home. Oh it was still a home, alright, but I felt that it could never be mine again.

I swung my leg over Argo's rump and landed with rather more grace than usual. I took my time fussing over the mare, untacking her and giving her plenty of pats, trying to delay the inevitable.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see my family- I had missed them greatly while I was travelling with Xena. But I vehemently wished that I didn't have to tell them why I had come home.

"There you go, girl," I murmured, giving Argo one last pat. "I don't think I can put this off any longer."

The mare whickered softly, her warm breath washing over my palm.

"Yeah, I'm being silly, aren't I?" I whispered to her.

With a sigh I turned to the door, straightening my shoulders determinedly. I needed to stop moping and just get in there.

At the door I hesitated; should I knock, or just walk in? It was my home, after all, surely I should just open the door and go on in. But I felt like a stranger here, like I didn't belong and so after a few moments of agonizing over this small detail I rapped my knuckles on the door.

From inside I could hear my mother call out to Lilla to see who was at the door. I was glad it would be my sister and not one of my parents who would discover me.

The door was pulled open suddenly and warm candlelight washed out into the dim night.

"Gabrielle?" Lilla gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

Without warning my little sister launched herself at me, wrapping her slim arms around my shoulders in a bone-crushing hug. I'd never noticed how strong my sister was before.

"Gabrielle?" My father called out, obviously convinced that he hadn't heard Lilla correctly.

"Yes, papa, it's Gabrielle!" Lilla sprung back and ushered me inside, a big grin on her face.

"Gabrielle!" My father exclaimed, opening his arms wide in an expansive gesture. Mother took that moment to duck underneath one of his arms and rush towards me, enveloping me in a hug that was purely Mom. I almost broke into tears in that moment, for the first time since Xena's death feeling truly safe and loved.

"Hey Mom," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears.

"Gabby?" Mother pulled back with concern written across her face, "Are you alright?"

I managed a firm nod and swallowed back my grief once again. I was home, with my family again, now wasn't the time to break down.

Mother smiled at me then, though her eyes said that she didn't believe for one moment that everything was fine.

That night I managed to avoid most questions about why I had come back, nimbly ducking and weaving until I thought my head would explode.

Finally it came time to go to bed and I hurried off with my sister, eager to be somewhere quiet and wishing I could be alone.

As soon as our bedroom door closed behind us, Lilla pounced, the first words out of her mouth being the ones I had assiduously avoided all night.

"So where's Xena?"

I ground my teeth and reminded myself that Lilla could not possibly know that this was a painful subject. Gods, how I wanted to just sleep. And cry. I hadn't had time for a good cry in three days, which was longer than I could currently manage.

Lilla watched my face interestedly, observing every emotion that passed across it. When I finally settled on agony she stepped forward and hugged me again.

"I'm so sorry, Gabrielle," She whispered, and that was all I could take. I finally let the tears come.


	5. A Kindred Purpose

**AN:** This chapter kind of addresses X & G's relationship and I just want to point out that I'm an avid Xena/Ares shipper and while I can kind of see peoples' reason for thinking X & G were 'together' (they did have great on-screen chemistry), in my little world they were just incredibly close friends. There is a comment here that points towards others in this world thinking there was something more, so I'll leave it up to individual readers to decide how they want to interpret things. I'll try to keep things deliberately ambiguous to accomodate everyone.

**

* * *

  
A Kindred Purpose**

The next few weeks were a haze of grief and awkwardness. The people of Potadeia had all heard about my adventures with the warrior princess and were eager to hear news of the world outside our small village. It wasn't that we didn't get caravans and traders passing through; we did, and the people managed to assuage their curiosity by interrogating them thoroughly. But this time one of their own had flown the coop, so to speak, and they felt it was their right to know every detail, all the little ins and outs, of my travels. Needless to say this made it quite impossible for me to grieve in peace.

Every day, as I walked through the streets on my way to the communal well, whispers and little pieces of gossip would reach my ears. "Isn't she the one who went wandering with that upstart warrior woman?" or "You know, I heard there was a little more than friendship between them!" Followed by a disgusted huff or disdainful snort.

Mostly I managed to ignore the hurtful whispers and accusing looks, but after two weeks of not being able to venture outside without being buried in gossip and speculation I grew tired of it all. Stalking past the well, one day, I dropped the wooden bucket I had been carrying, and continued on into the forest beyond. For many long minutes I walked and the further from the village I wandered, the lighter my shoulders became.

With a blissful sigh I came to rest on fallen log, the quiet of the nature around me seeping into my heart and cooling the anger that been brewing there for weeks.

In the silence I revelled, closing my eyes and allowing my thoughts to bubble to the surface after many days of being repressed for fear of worrying my family. With the thoughts came my grief and sorrow and the anxiousness that had become a part of me, settling into my bones as though it belonged there. Tears found their way to my eyes and spilled down my cheeks in hot trails. I placed my head in my hands and buried my fingers in my hair, clutching handfuls of it in my fingers as though to stop myself from coming loose from my moorings and drifting away.

Painful sobs filled the small clearing in which I sat, my grief being dragged from my heart with cruel, ruthless fingers. In my head resounded one thought: _I miss her._

I miss her. I miss her. I miss her.

And then _Why?_

Why is she gone? Why did she leave me here?

And then came the startling realisation that I didn't know. I didn't know why, and I didn't know who. Who had killed her? Who had taken her away?

Anger unfurled its poisonous petals, a vengeful flower blooming in my heart. I wanted to know. I wanted to know who and I wanted to know why. And then I wanted to hurt them, to make them pay for this atrocity. The fact that Xena had done so much and so much worse in her own lifetime failed to register in my mind.

In my hate-filled world I managed to hold on to a scrap of sense, though this scrap only served to add purpose to my impotent rage.

"Ares!" I snarled, my voice coming out twisted and choked.

The God of War materialised before my startled eyes with a crack and a flash of white-blue lightning.

"You rang," He drawled, knowing in his eyes.

In him I recognized, if not a kindred spirit, then a kindred purpose. We both wanted revenge and at this moment that was all that mattered.

"I want-" My throat ached with the strain of speaking while my mind struggled to find the words I needed.

"I know," He murmured, and I could see that he did. No words were required.


	6. Reprieve

**Break**

Just as I heard the words 'I know,' from Ares, all the fight drained out of me and I collapsed in on myself, my shoulders hunching as I quietly imploded. Just moments ago I had felt like I could do anything; take on the world just to make sure Xena's murderer got what was coming to them. Now I was lost, adrift in a sea of numbness. Cautiously I glanced up into Ares' eyes, afraid of what I would see there.

The anger in his gaze floored me. He was furious, having read my face perfectly. He knew I was weak and unable to do what needed to be done. In the face of his ire I felt mortified tears spring to my tired eyes. I hadn't thought about this, had just called on him in a moment of deep pain and rage, with no real strength to back it up.

"I'm not a warrior," I whispered, averting my eyes from his.

He rolled his shoulders in an uncomfortable gesture and I could feel the irritation pouring off him in acidic waves. Finally he snorted, quite eloquently in fact, imbuing the forceful exhalation with all his irritated derision. Beneath those emotions I thought I could detect bitter disappointment. I cringed. I hated to disappoint people, even the God of War whose very nature was so contrary to my own. Even when he was disappointed in me because I couldn't kill someone.

Eventually I summoned the courage to glance back up at him, only to find empty air where he had stood just moments ago.

The weight I had felt earlier returned to my shoulders, feeling heavier than ever after my short reprieve. I was relieved that Ares had gone and with him his conflicted presence, but I felt empty now. It was as though a little piece of Xena had been in the clearing with me when he was here and even though I had been miserable and hurt and angry in his presence… I felt worse now that he was gone. Empty.

* * *

The week following Ares' little visit I was one of the worst in my life. I, foolishly, concentrated all my efforts on controlling my emotions, keeping my pain under lock and key; thinking that if I just ignored it all everything would go away. I smiled and laughed until my face felt like it would crack under the pressure of looking happy. I did a good job of hiding my emotions, but they found their way out during the night while I slept, manifesting as horrific nightmares. Every night I dreamt of blades and blood and vengeance, while my days were taken up with maintaining a cover for the roiling, burning, hateful thing that lived in the place where my heart should have been.

Eight days turned out to be my limit, and with a broken sob I dashed out of the village, past the well and into the forest. I finally snapped and broke and fell to the ground and didn't get up again for hours upon hours. I lay on the forest floor and the leaves beneath my cheek with every tear I could, screamed out my pain until I was empty and lifeless.

She saved me from an existence and gifted me with a life. I couldn't imagine continuing without her. What would I do? Marry a farmer and settle down to cooking and cleaning and child-bearing? That was what my future held; I could feel it tugging at my bones relentlessly, even as I sank deeper into the damp earth. Maybe if I disappeared beneath a blanket of leaves and dirt, no one would find me and I could go to her and be free again.

_Maybe, maybe.  
_

* * *

A large, warm hand closed over my bare shoulder and tugged until I lay on my back, staring up at the leafy green sky.

"Not giving up are you?"

A deep, rough voice penetrated the cottony fog that clutched at my mind.

"Irritating blonde."

He sounded annoyed and I flinched as something hard nudged my side. My head turned and I forced my gaze away from the green, leafy canopy. I saw a face, tanned and surrounded by a mane of dark hair. Thick eyebrows furrowed over deep brown eyes. I blinked, tried to force myself back into my body.

"Did you just poke me with your foot?" I managed, my voice raspy and painful from screaming.

"Uh, yeah, I did. Didn't think you'd mind, given that you obviously don't care anymore," His voice was thick with sarcasm and ridicule. Somehow I think he's right.

"Well I do mind, so just back off and leave me alone." Anger burned into my heart slotting neatly into place as though I had been waiting for its return. I embrace it wholeheartedly and suddenly standing up didn't seem so hard anymore.

With a great effort I pushed myself to my feet, my lethargic limbs protesting greatly. As I brushed leaves and debris from my skirt I could feel his eyes on me. Irritation bubbled half-heartedly in my chest as I wondered what on earth he found so interesting about my dishevelled appearance. I wasn't ready to face him yet, though, so I lingered over the little burs and twigs that had caught in my hair.

Finally I straightened, dragging my eyes away from the ground to meet his. He isn't there. I heave a heavy sigh, feeling that, once again, I have disappointed him.

Despite this, I feel lighter as I head back towards the village.


	7. Refuge

**Refuge**

The clearing became a refuge for me after that; I would pass from the bustling, lively village, into an ethereal world of soft green and hard brown and sweet birdsong. The peace of nature healed my heart and tended to the wounds that marred my soul. I would spend hours in the cold stillness of a mild winter, sitting on the log that had become mine, writing with a loving hand the stories of Xena's great adventures. It was just dawning spring as I finally came to the end of my knowledge of her. I had carefully, artfully documented all I knew about her and now there was nothing left to write. I strained my mind, thinking back minutely over everything we had been through together, trying to come up with something, anything that I had missed. Anything to prolong this sweet remembrance.

Eventually I gave up, knowing there was nothing left for me to say now. Maybe one day some little detail would come rushing back to me, something I had forgotten for now and I would write it down and add it to my collection. Add another piece of her to the only thing she had left me. Memories.

* * *

My family were worried, I could tell. They treated me with fragile care as though I would break at any moment. I couldn't understand why they would be like this; I had carefully confined my grief to when I was alone. Not one of them had seen me cry since that first night of my return, so what made them think I was so unstable that they had to handle me with kid gloves? I didn't realise at the time that they were worried because I had, in their eyes, not yet grieved, nor dealt at all with Xena's death. But I felt that it was something very private; I didn't want to sit around the hearth every night and cry on my mother's shoulder. There was nothing she could do or say that would fix this.

I tired of the worried glances and sympathetic looks, longing to be treated normally. But there was no one in the village that didn't have an opinion, one way or another. There were those who were sympathetic and those who were curious, those who had already made up their minds that Xena had deserved whatever she got and, by association, I deserved to have lost her. Sympathy, curiosity and condemnation. Those were my options and I didn't like any of them. So I retreated further from everyone, spending increasing amounts of time in my small clearing, writing fictional tales and pain-filled poems and searching for a way to avoid being sucked back into the life of a humble village-girl.

It was only six months after Xena's death before my mother started dropping hints about settling down. She would point out some attractive young man, nudging me with her elbow, and say "He's a very respectable boy, you know?"

I refused to take the hint. No way, no how, was I going to just melt into the background of Potadeia, bearing children for some 'respectable boy' and growing more bored and more bitter by the day. I didn't belong here, just as I hadn't before Xena came and I followed her away.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't belong here, but nor did I belong anywhere else! The only place that had ever really felt like home had been with Xena and now…

Tears pricked my eyes, less from grief for once than from helplessness. I might not fit here but what choice did I really have? There was nowhere else for me to go.

* * *

I wandered aimlessly through the village, now able to do so without taking any notice of the greatly reduced amount of whispers that followed me. I was old news now. Xena was old news now. Talia and Brodec were engaged to be married and this had usurped my return as the 'Most Juicy Piece of Gossip Around'. I was glad; happy for Talia and Brodec and happy for me. One thing that disturbed me somewhat, though, was that Talia was a couple of years younger than me. I knew my parents, well my mother mostly, must be anxious for me to find someone and disappointed that I was being so uncooperative.

I couldn't find room in my heart to care very much, though. I was still full of other, more pressing emotions, than guilt at disappointing my mother by not getting married.

Slowly my wayward feet carried me past the well, instinctively taking me where I was most comfortable these days.

Summer had begun, and with it my clearing had flourished. Beautiful flowers and grasses and moss covered the ground while the tall trees overflowed with rich-green leaves. The healthy vibrancy of nature drew an unbidden smile from my face. I found it impossible to be completely miserable while I was surrounded by Gaia's glory.

After a minute of peaceful indulgence my skin began to prickle with awareness of another being. The only other who knew of my clearing was…

"Ares?" I called curiously. I pitched my voice so that it was a question rather than a demand. If he wasn't nearby he would, hopefully, not respond. The clearing became silent, the birds quieting their lazy summer-songs while the last remaining spring bees ceased their constant hum. So he was here. I turned in a circle, hunting for the God amongst the trees and low bushes. He slowly stepped out from behind the tallest, oldest tree on the edge of the clearing, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword as he swaggered gracefully towards me.

"Yeah?" He muttered belligerently, obviously still peeved about the last time we had met.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the warning bells that went off in my head as I did so. When was it a good idea to roll your eyes at the God of War? Never. Still, he was holding on to this grudge with terrier-like tenacity. Surely gods had better things to be doing than brooding about mortals.

"Are you still angry with me?" I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the incredulity from creeping into my voice.

He gave me a mutinous look which clearly said "I have better things to do," while confirming that yes, he was still angry with me.

I longed to voice my comment about gods, surely, having little time to spare for childish brooding, but fortunately common sense kicked in at that moment and I kept my mouth shut.

"So," I began casually, "Have you, uh, brought to justice the… person who…" He was glaring. I trailed off with a sigh. Of course he had.

"No,"

I glanced back up to his eyes, shock clearly written across my face. "What do you mean, no?"

He rolled his eyes then, though his earlier hostility seemed to have faded somewhat. "I mean, no I haven't '_brought them to justice'_ as you so delicately put it."

"But… why?" I blurted, confused. So much for delicacy.

He shook his head then and rolled his shoulders, obviously something he did when he was uncomfortable. I could see him contemplating the answer to my question and I had to wonder; what was he waiting for? What on Gaia's green earth could be stopping him from taking his revenge?

He snorted and huffed then, before saying, "I don't have to answer to you."

With one last venomous glare he cracked and flared and disappeared.

"Right. Real mature, Ares." I muttered, a faint smile tilting the corners of my mouth, despite my annoyance.


	8. Realization

**Not Fighting Anymore**

From that day on Ares became a regular visitor to my little clearing. Some days he would lurk around the edges, not revealing himself, while others he would appear in the very center of it with a glorious flourish of god-magic.

We would spend many days in silence, some days walking through the peaceful woods and others would be spent arguing vociferously. Usually about nothing in particular. To this day I am amazed that he didn't kill me for some of the things I said and did.

* * *

"Why do you even care, Ares?" I snapped, stepping around to stand in front of him. We had been walking quite peacefully through the forest that bordered Potadeia when I was suddenly hit by an irresistible urge to confront the God of War. I think that's part of his power, I mean, he is the god of War, if he can't provoke people into a confrontation, then who can?

He stopped walking and stared at me incredulously, as though I had suddenly grown another head. I was suddenly afraid. I don't know how, but I had forgotten who and what he was and that knowledge came crashing back down on me in this moment.

"Why do I care?" He hissed through clenched teeth. "You think she was just another warlord to me, don't you? Some blood-thirsty warrior I used to create war; my art."

I flinched, and some part of me was bemused to hear him call war his 'art'.

His eyes got dark and distant then and I felt that he was very far away.

"I sacrificed so many of my best warriors on schemes to get her back. When she wouldn't return to me I tried to kill her. I couldn't," The War God shook his head and looked at me again, "Exactly how many people do you think I have ever failed to kill? None. I'm the God of War, if I want someone dead I make them dead. And see, that's the thing here; I don't want her dead!" He finished this last sentence with a furious snarl and then I realised that he, too, was mourning for her.

I hadn't realised he actually, in his odd way, cared about her. But now that I thought about it, I suppose it was obvious- I mean, he even brought her gifts. Okay, brought her armies. But still, I guess that counts as a gift if it's from the God of War, right?

"I'm not used to having to give things up. I came to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to come back to me when she was alive. At least then I could still watch her fight, see her sword raised in battle and know that in some way she was still mine, as long as she was fighting…"

I heard the words he didn't voice; _She's not fighting anymore._

I became quiet then, all my anger spent and my curiosity sated for now. I wondered why it had never occurred to me before that he actually cared about her. I suppose I assumed he was angry because his favourite toy had been taken away from him, when really, he was grieving much the same as I was.

We continued our walk after that, the silence less comfortable than it had been before.

* * *

**AN: **For the moment I am going to continue posting little snippets of Ares-Gabrielle interaction, building their relationship a bit more before I move on with the 'storyline'. I put storyline in little ''s because, really, this isn't so much about story as it is emotion and recovery and moving on after losing someone who had previously been vital to your happiness. I hope I don't disappoint/irritate anyone because of this, but that's just the direction this story seems to be taking.

Thankyou LadyKate1, Melskim, Gabxena21 & the ever-awesome Bamf! I adore reviews in a way that makes me squeal and dance around the house like a total idiot. Its a thing. XD


	9. Restraint

**Restraint**

"So… started any wars lately?" I keep my voice deliberately light. I might not like war, I might disapprove of everything Ares stands for, but I know I can't blame him for his nature. He is who he is, just as I am who I am. I'm sure my peaceful ways must irritate the God of War to no end, but I can't change myself just to suit him. And he sure isn't going to change for anything.

He frowns, dark brows furrowing over rich brown eyes. I had thought this would be a relatively safe topic, as long as I didn't voice my opinions, but obviously not. Eventually he shrugs noncommittally.

"There's something promising brewing in Thrace," He says, and I'm not sure I believe him.

I nod anyway, humming in acknowledgement. Obviously he doesn't want to talk about this and I'm not in the mood to push him.

We continue in silence, wandering aimlessly along an overgrown path that circles Potadeia. I think it must be used by hunters sometimes.

He breathes and I can tell he wants to say something. He lets the breath out in a whoosh. I know he'll eventually come out with it, whatever it is, but time passes quite differently to Ares than it does to me. He has forever and I don't, so his silences will often last for days if I don't try and get him to spit it out.

Today I'm content to wait. I'm not sure I want to know what he's trying to say. I often don't.

The sky is darkening now and I know I'll have to return to the village soon. I wish I didn't. Things are strained at the moment, between me and… everyone. Well, except for Lilla. She seems to understand better than Mother and Father that I just need time. That I can't just _move_ on.

It is as I am turning to say goodnight to him that Ares finally finds the words he is looking for.

"Do you ever think about… going after the person who killed her?" He wonders out loud. His voice is carefully blank of any accusation.

I'm impressed. Ares is not normally so restrained. Maybe that's why he took so long to come out with it; he was trying to find the right tone.

I'm not sure how to answer him. I think about the person who did this. I wonder why and I wish I knew the answer, but I don't feel that great, pressing urge to destroy them anymore. Make no mistake; I wouldn't be upset if they were killed. I would probably even rejoice. But I don't want them to die by my hand any more.

"I… think about finding out why," I say carefully, knowing this was not the answer he wanted.

Rather than flying off the handle, though, Ares just nods thoughtfully.

Another couple of minutes pass.

"Goodnight, Ares," I murmur, trying to keep the sympathy from my voice and my eyes. I know he's disappointed, despite how well he hides it, but I also know he wouldn't appreciate sympathy.

He nods and waits for me to head back to the village before crackling out of existence.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for pointing out the whole tool thing, Bamf. It's changed. Different meanings/different countries lol :D


	10. Reliance

**Reliance**

Ares doesn't come to the clearing for many days after that. I'm tempted to blame myself, but I could not have truthfully given him a more satisfactory answer than the one I did. I'm not going to lie to him.

I sit in the clearing, upon my customary log and pluck absently at the grass that grows long and lush at my feet. I have been short-tempered and snappish lately, even with Lilla and I can't seem to stop. It's as though I have a coiled spring wound tightly in my chest and every day it coils further, stretching my patience thinner and thinner, making my tongue sharp and caustic. I don't mean to drive people away, but they don't understand and I can't explain it to them. So they avoid me, which on the whole is a good thing, but sometimes I just long for companionship. For someone who understands.

Ares.

But he isn't here and I don't know when – or even if – he will return. I hadn't realised before how much I relied on him, or how much I would miss him should he go away. Now I know and it scares me a little. It can't be good that the only person I enjoy being around these days is a God. He can't really be my friend, can't be a part of my life – well, not a large part anyway. And that is what he's become; the one thing I look forward to, the one thing that I enjoy. The rest of my time is spent waiting to retreat to the clearing so that I can see him again and be at peace.

I can't let this continue. I can't bank my happiness on the mercurial whims of a God.

I slowly stand, resolve hardening in my chest. I'll stay away from the clearing; I'll try to find some other way to be happy. If I happen to see Ares again, then so be it, but I won't live every day just for the hope that I might.

This is easier said than done, I discover quickly. Just because I want it to be doesn't make it so; I still miss him every day, I still miss the peaceful walks and the turbulent arguments. I miss feeling truly alive. But I promised myself that I would try to make this work and so I try. I wrangle my unruly tongue into some semblance of control, restraining the biting comments that try to work their way forth. I smile and I laugh and I try to be happy. And I try not to miss him.

It's odd- I've spent the last year trying not to miss her and now I'm trying not to miss him. It seems that I will never be with the people I want to be with. They keep disappearing and leaving me here; I guess that's what happens when you're just the sidekick. When the star of the show leaves town the spotlight goes with them and all the normal people are left behind to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Every day is much the same in Potadeia; eat, gather water, wash clothes, eat, sleep and repeat. I tried to socialise, I really did. I tried to like the people my mother forced on me, tried not to be rude every time I turned them down, but it does get wearing after a while. Especially when the people you care about are nowhere within reach and no one else even comes close to being what they were.

I begin to wonder after a couple of weeks whether Ares has returned to the clearing at all. I have wondered this every day, mind you, but the urge to go there and find out is becoming overwhelming. Every day that passes it grows stronger, curiosity and longing tugging relentlessly at my bones. Whenever I draw water from the well I gaze into the forest, my fingers slackening their hold on the pail as I wonder. Is he there?

I force away the urge to find out and I continue to go about my existence with practiced pretence.


	11. Return

**AN: **Sorry about the wait on this one, guys. I have no good excuse, just a lack of inspiration. I'm no good at writing for extended periods of time. About a week of one chapter a day (one very, very short chapter) and I'm burnt out. Yeah, I have no stamina to speak of :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter; I think it sucks major a$$, but hey, let me know what you think.

**Return**

The weeks pass slowly, dragging by with excruciating slowness, as though time has got caught in a sea of molasses. I am thoroughly tired of pretending, after all, what is the point of life if you don't pursue those things that make you happy. All it becomes is a long, long day full of nothing and no one of meaning. It is with these thoughts in mind that I, one day many weeks into my new resolve, abandon the pail by the well and continue into the forest. Mother will no doubt be annoyed that the washing water has been delayed in its delivery to her, by I'm fairly certain I can live with that.

The shade of the trees welcomes me, branches parting before me as though they have anticipated my return and seek to make my journey peril-free. Long grasses caress my calves and twigs catch on the long skirt of my dress. The birds sing playfully from their boughs, twittering a sweet lullaby as I pass. All of this amuses me; it is as though nature is conspiring to bring be to my destination swiftly. It is humming its approval in the groans of the trees and swoosh of the wind.

Quickly I come upon the clearing, parting the last branches and stepping into the soft sunlight that filters through the thinned leaves. The grass has grown taller since I was last here, nearly completely obscuring my log from view. I smile quietly, rustling through the green stems to sit comfortably on the familiar bark.

Ares is not here and there is nothing to indicate that he has ever been. This thought brings a frown to my face, my lips drawing down in a huff of anxiety. It is as though he was never here, as though we never argued or laughed or strolled through the trees. There should be something, some mark to say that he was here, that Ares, God of War was here. How can a being so apparently powerful leave behind no trace?

"Ares?" I call, turning my face hopefully to the sky, as though the sunlight might carry my voice to him, wherever he is.

It appears to have worked, for within seconds the air becomes charged with electricity, teasing the hair on my arms into standing and my breath to catch awkwardly in my throat. The waves of grass flow outwards from the center of the lightning as he appears, flattening in a perfect circle around his feet. I never noticed that before. Although, I suppose the grass is extremely long at the moment, perhaps while it was shorter it never drew my attention.

He eyes me seriously for a moment before nodding, "Gabrielle."

His voice nearly elicits an excited squeak from me, but I simply settle for smiling as subduedly as I can manage. I really shouldn't be so excited to see him, but I am.

"Ares, you came!" I grin, standing quickly. I really want to run over and hug him, but I know he would probably kill me if I try. Instead, I cross my arms to give them something to do and take a couple of steps closer to him.

He raises one eyebrow, evidently amused by my enthusiastic greeting. He obviously seems to think my inane words do not require, or deserve, a response. At his silence I begin to fidget uncomfortably. Really, does he have to be so... unresponsive. I'm beginning to think a hug would have been a better greeting. Or at least it would have gotten a response rather than this silence.

"Are you still annoyed?" I finally ask, feeling that it would be rather petty of him if he is. Really, what did he expect I would say? I've never been one for violence.

"Annoyed? I wasn't annoyed," He nearly bursts out, obviously stunned at my assumption. Almost instantly he looks irritated and I'm beginning to think he doesn't understand what he feels.

"Oookay," I squint at him dubiously and tilt my head, flicking my hair away from me as it tickles my neck.

"Could you not look at me like that?" He huffs, setting his hands on his hips.

"Like what?" I'm really trying not to laugh, but he's still standing there, hands on hips, looking not nearly as threatening as he's probably aiming for. When did he become so not scary?

"Like that!" He nods at me incredulously. At my seeming incomprehension he rolls his eyes then tilts his head and squints comically in my direction.

At that I really can't hold it in anymore and I finally release my pose, snickering as quietly as I can manage. I knew all along what he meant, but this opportunity was far too good to pass up. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him getting angry but, really, what did he expect?

After a moment of grinding his teeth and half-reaching for his sword the God of War finally rolls his shoulders and shakes his head, a vague smirk lingering about his eyes.

"Was there a reason you called me? One that doesn't include _laughing_ at me?" He is being surprisingly good-natured about this and, in a moment of good-will, I cease my snickering and straighten up.

"Well," What to say, that I missed him? I'm sure that will go down well. "I just wanted to find out if you were angry with me, that's all. After all, it can't be good to have a God annoyed at you."

I'm trying for reasonable and friendly, but I'm failing miserably and just managing Bad Lie.

He doesn't seem particularly interested in discovering the real reason for my calling him here and so he accepts this. I'm both relieved and a little miffed at his utter disinterest in my real reasoning and it is one the crest of this wave that I speak the next few words.

"I also wanted to tell you that... I want to find the person who killed Xena. I want to know why they did it," I know my face is pale and taut with tension and unhappiness, not to mention shock. I never intended to say this, never. But now it is out there and the look on his face is one of hope and relief and there is no part of me that wants to take that away.

He nods, eyes dark with warmth and a kind of reverence.

"Okay."


	12. Relapse

**Short and uncertain. This is a gateway to the rest of this story and in a fit of inspiration I thought I'd write it and get it up now, in preparation for more.**

It's with a great deal trepidation that I step into Ares' beckoning arms. It's not that I don't trust him, exactly, more that I know our goals are not the same- not nearly the same. They are, in fact, leagues apart. He wants to brutally murder Xena's killer and I… I'm not sure what I want, but not that.

He can't help being the way he is, all fire and rage and violence. He is the personification of war, quite literally. I'm beginning to realize that, with time meaning so little to him in his immortal state, his need for revenge is undimmed by the months that have passed. To him it is as though Xena died yesterday and all the hate is still upon him, boiling and churning and urging him to dismember the foul wretch who took her from him. I know now that he thought of her as more than just a plaything, something to ease the tedium of never-ending life and unlimited power. I think she was a treasured prize that he coveted; a steely spark that he wanted to use to ignite a blazing frenzy of war that would stretch over the entire world, with her by his side to revel in the chaos. Perhaps he had even convinced himself he was in love with her. He certainly desired her. And so fresh was this wound, still, that when he banded his battle-hardened arms around me I think he was lost in memories of her. His eyes had shed all their brief warmth and took on that specific look that he reserved for her. A dark, tumultuous need; greed wrapped in lust.

The wooded clearing around us dissolved in a crackling, energy-charged burst of white-blue and I hung on to Ares for dear life. After several terrifying, for me, moments we reappeared in a dirty alleyway in some unknown city, the unpleasant stench of too many people living too close together filling my nostrils. Ares pulled away and I watched his expression curiously. The impenetrable walls had come down behind his eyes again and neither Xena's look nor the softer, warmer one I had begun to think of as my own appeared on his hard expressionless face. I swallowed nervously, wondering what would come next.

After a moment of stillness and, evidently, thought, Ares held out one gauntleted arm and magicked a long black cloak out of thin air. Then he sent me an appraising look, drawing his gaze boredly from my head to my toes. I must have passed his inspection well enough because he nodded to himself with a vague smirk and took my arm, leading me towards the mouth of the alley. As we walked he leaned close and explained the plan.

**As always, sorry for the extended delay; life's been hectic and my muse unreliable. More soon. -Savari**


	13. Revelation

**AN: **Another little update . At least the story's finally going somewhere, lol!

**Revelation**

I hesitate nervously outside the door to the Minotaur's Horn tavern, pulling at the sleeves of the rough woollen cloak Ares gave me earlier. This plan scares me- to the God of War it is simple, safe and utterly foolproof. I am reminded of the fact that he is not the God of _Wisdom_ and Warfare, rather the God of War and as such his idea of 'safe' and 'foolproof' and even 'plan' are likely radically different to my own. I swallow anxiously, feeling the rush of fear, the slightly bitter taste of excess energy flooding to my muscles as I prepare to either run or fight. Of course, if all goes according to plan, I will not be doing either of those things. _If_ being the problem here.

Steeling my nerves I push through the surprisingly rickety wooden door and step into the low light of the tavern. The sight that greets me does not reassure me whatsoever on the soundness of this 'plan'. There are warlords and warriors everywhere, great hulking men draped over protesting chairs, their dirt and sun-darkened muscles clothed in leather and iron. The rowdy buzz of conversation lowers to a dim bubbling as the room turns to inspect the newcomer – me – and I wish I could pull the hood of the cloak up and hide myself from their appraising, hostile and leering stares. Gathering my courage to me I try to recall every nuance of Xena's stance, her walk, her cold gaze as she faced a potential enemy. I'm sure I just look terrified, but it seems to work to a degree and most of the eyes blink and turn back to their discussions. Slightly emboldened, I weave my way through the clustered tables and chairs, hunting for the face of Xena's killer. I feel like I should remember him with crystal clarity, but I don't. I remember the rush of terror and shock as I held the sword to his throat, I remember the proud baritone of his voice and the arrogant angle of his stance. I know that moment inside and out, I can step into it so easily and be back there, right there where my whole life changed and was broken. But he is just a faceless monster, a weak man who commanded the minds and loyalty of other weak men.

I am beginning to think he is not here and relief floods my heart, touched also with disappointment. I turn for one final sweeping glance over the room, just in case, and that's when I hear it. The nasty chuckle that haunted my dreams for months after her death. He is here, somewhere. A hand clasps around my upper arm, bruising as it spins me around. Talmadeus.

"Well, well, what have we here?" He grins, breathing on me with foul ale-tainted breath. I fight the urge to tremble under his mean gaze and fail. His nasty smile widens.

_Gabrielle! What are you doing?_

I can here Ares' voice in my head, exasperated and impatient and I jump, startled. How did he do that?

"I'm trying, Ares," I growl under my breath, not knowing how to respond in a way that he can here me.

"What?" Talmadeus looks confused, but still smug and entertained.

"Uh, I- I want to know why you killed her!" There I go, jumping in without thinking again. He snorts and spins me around again, shoving me towards what is obviously his table. I stumble forward and I'm caught by the grubby, grabbing hands of one of his lieutenants.

"Why do you think I killed her? For the glory, for the challenge. For the right to say that I, Talmadeus, killed the great Xena, Warrior Princess!" He smirks and thinks for a moment, "And just because I could." His men laugh uproariously at this and I take the opportunity to yank myself away from the gap-toothed man that caught me.

"I don't understand how a pathetic, minor warlord like you could have possibly even landed a scratch on Xena, let alone killed her!" I burst out, angry beyond reason. How dare he use her murder to further his ambitions. How dare he _brag_ about it?

He blanches for a moment and I can't help but feel that I've landed a heavy blow. "Unless… you didn't really kill her." My voice rapidly loses volume as my mind struggles to process this thought. _Could it really have been someone else? No one actually saw who fired that arrow._

Talmadeus' ruddy face darkens further, his eyes shedding all traces of good humor. "You don't know what you're talking about, wench," He snarls, reaching out and fastening his hands around my wrists. With a violent jerk he yanks me almost off my feet and begins to march me out of the tavern.

_At least this part of Ares' plan is going right._


End file.
